I don’t (is what I should have said).

“Maybe next time” – An RSVP I received when I sent out the invites to my last wedding. To be fair, they weren’t wrong.

My first wedding, my mother in law sobbed throughout the ceremony. Not with happiness, but with anger and sadness.

My second wedding, I sobbed throughout the ceremony. Not with happiness, but with anger and sadness.

So, a variation on a theme there.

Luckily, both were registry office do’s with a minimum amount of people in attendance. The first one, we didn’t even have an after party, so the whole thing cost a grand total of £60 – the cost of the license. No reception, no cake and we both wore jeans. And it was in Slough.

The second wedding cost slightly more, due to the fact that the man I was marrying had to provide lots of food and drink for all his friends, most of whom I’d never a met and most of whom didn’t like me, despite not being able to pick me out from a line up.

 Basically, I spent two grand to sit and watch people I didn’t like eat quiche.

Then he fucked off to watch the football and left me standing around on my own like a twat. No one could find him for an hour and a half. Thank God for the few wonderful friends I was able to invite, who kept me sane by force feeding me Prosecco and telling me that no, I didn’t look fat, and yes, I could go and put my trainers on now.

 Knowing that my personal experiences of weddings hasn’t been great, a friend has asked me to help plan her wedding.

 No, she hasn’t had a bump on the head and she still wants me to do it after I said surely it’s best to get me onboard in five years when it’s time to plan the divorce.

So lately I have been sending my days trawling wedding websites and having endless whatsapp conversations about which colour napkins she should have.

The only bit I have liked so far is testing out the wedding cakes. I was a little bit too enthusiastic though and ended up feeling really sick from sampling as much buttercream as they would let me have.

I wanted to kill myself when we went dress shopping. We went to proper wedding dress shops and Jesus Christ, how many variations on a white dress do you need? They do give you champagne though if you look serious about buying a wedding dress and stupidly overpriced bridesmaid dresses from them, so I was on my best behavior. Apart from when they started talking about bridesmaid dresses and a cheeky bitch of a sales assistant asked me if my baby was due before or after the wedding, I was a bit pissed by then and it all went a bit Jeremy Kyle and I ended up crying in a Wetherspoons eating chips and saying I wanted to go on a diet (after the chocolate cake and all the lager).

So far, we are at 15k. Yes, fifteen thousand pounds, and there are so m ny other things that she still ‘needs’ like seat covers and bits of glitter to scatter about on tables.

Fifteen grand on one day. He’s not even that good looking.

Five grand of it is on food and drink for other people. I jokingly suggested Greggs could do the catering, and at that point and I seriously thought she would kill me.

She wants the whole fairytale day and I can’t help thinking that a new car to replace her knackered old Corsa would be money better spent, seeing as I have had cars that have lasted longer than my marriages.

But I have to be supportive and that basically means walking around John Lewis looking at shiny things while smiling and nodding, because she NEEDS the perfect fairytale wedding, for which the colour of the table cloths and the thickness of the invitations are paramount.

I haven’t said this to her yet, but she will defiantly have the fairytale wedding – she has the evil stepmother and two ugly sisters already – and don’t worry; I have already text the best man that and he is definitely using it in his speech.

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